


touched your head gently (felt my heart melt)

by elareine



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Divorce, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Movie(s), Raising a Child, and during, nothing graphic though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: Raising a child isn't easy, especially if you're trying to conceal from your wife that you're an assassin for hire. Also, you live in Gotham and parenting terrifies you. Then there's the whole 'imprisoned for life' thing... 
Zoe makes everything worth it. 
(Five times Floyd thought he was the wrong person to be a dad, and the one time he didn't.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ficklepickle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficklepickle/gifts).



> I hope this is what you were looking for! 
> 
> As always, many thanks to prettylittlepliers for the excellent and quick beta. Special thanks to my brother and his three kids, one of which inspired point four all on his own. Here’s to you finding this on the internet in fifteen years or so, Ivan. 
> 
> Full disclosure: I’m not American, so I might’ve gotten some stuff wrong re: child rearing methods there. Dialogue from movie scenes is entirely based on my shitty memory,  with some elements added from the novelization. Title is from “Just the two of us” by Will Smith. 
> 
> Detailed Warnings: Cissexist labeling of a baby’s gender, swearing, mentions of sexual violence (not in any way experienced by any of the characters), casual use of “sociopath”, mentions of depression, mentions of (in one case potentially) unhealthy relationships, movie-typical violence, minor character death (no one that’s actually in the movie), one break-up, someone lying to their partner and concealing something important, birth mention, blood mention, threat of mugging.

One

Floyd Lawton was a hardened killer, a hitman steadily making his way up on Gotham’s “Most Wanted” lists. He was gonna get rich quick, and he didn’t mind the corpses he left behind on his way - usually lowlifes trying to testify against or otherwise threatening other lowlifes who just happened to be rich enough to pay him. What did he care? And if he got killed on the job… well, that just wasn’t gonna happen. 

He was good. 

He was the best. 

Cold, quick, solitary. 

Fearless. 

So obviously he wasn’t scared shitless when his girlfriend of a few months (pretty, slightly unstable, but really fucking funny) showed him her positive pregnancy strip.

Susanna didn’t exactly know about his day-job. She probably figured he was doing the same unregistered work so many people in their neighbourhood had taken on after the last market crash, semi-legal but not too worrying. 

He stared at the strip for a second, then at her face. Her dark skin was tinged green. She was expecting him to leave, he realized, and that’s what made the decision for him. 

Floyd grinned, slowly. “So - when do you want to have the wedding?” 

She blinked. “What?”

He shrugged. “I’m assuming you want this kid, or you would have just told me you want an abortion.” She would have, too, or just gone out and got it. Susanna wasn’t the type to leave that kind of decision to someone else, not even him. It was something that he liked about her. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d like to do this right.” 

It was even sort of the truth. He wasn’t terribly concerned about the morality of a child being born out of wedlock or whatever, hell, they wouldn’t be standing here if he was, but he did want his kid to have all the best he could provide, and that included giving their mama the kind of access to his funds only a marriage certificate could offer. 

A smile slowly rose on Susanna’s face. She didn’t answer, but her kiss did that for her. 

 

So, yeah. Floyd Lawton wasn’t scared at all when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant. He wasn’t scared when he proposed, wasn’t scared at their small wedding, nor when the morning sickness came and left or they first heard their baby’s heartbeat. 

When she came back from the ob/gyn and told him he was going to have a daughter, though. That’s when the terror hit. 

Gotham city wasn’t the best place to grow up, okay? He’d known that, but it had never seemed so obvious as it did now. During his hits he suddenly found himself evaluating the streets, not just for potential witnesses and the best angles for the shot, but for creepy white guys lurking on the corners, the dealers and the rapists and the predators. Out to harm little girls, especially black girls. 

_His_ daugher. 

He’d tried to get Susanna to move to Metropolis or, at the very least, Mid-City. He wasn’t under any illusion, predators were everywhere, and not a lot of those neighbourhoods were all that friendly to Gotham-raised black families, but fuck it, at least there weren’t any penguins with machine guns running around there. Susanna had just laughed at the suggestion, though. She didn’t quite know the extent of his income (how was he gonna explain to her? Better not open up that can of worms) and anyway, here, she had her sisters to help and support her.  Floyd wasn’t gonna take that away from her, though he briefly considered moving all of them. 

How was he gonna do this? He and Susanna had practically no parenting role models to speak of. Susanna had basically been raised by her sisters; they never talked about their parents and he hadn’t asked. He himself had been orphaned pretty early in life. The foster care system wasn’t exactly known for its stellar child raising skills. 

So he did what any self-respecting adults did to find out about shit in the 00’s: he went to a bookstore. He hadn’t been to the self-help section before (nothing about his job skills in there, and he could do just fine without a diet, thanks), so it took a moment to locate the parenting shelf. By then, one of the employees had seen him. 

“Hi, how are you today? Can I help you find anything?” 

She beamed up at him, clearly expecting him to share some good news, and he figured he might as well ask. That’s what people like her were here for, right? 

“Hi. Uh, yeah. My wife is pregnant, and I was looking for some tips on… how to treat a baby, and stuff.” Fuck, this was awkward. 

Her smile turned knowing. “First child?”

He nodded. 

“Don’t you worry, everyone panics a little.” She looked one step away from patting his hand. “The first time my husband tried to change a diaper, he looked ready to jump out of the window from nerves. Of course, it - by which I mean the poo - then blew up in his face. Bad timing. Doesn’t matter, honey. Just give your kid a safe and loving home, and everything will be fine. Still, some advice won’t hurt! Here, I can recommend these books on pregnancy and birth, and this one is really good at detailing the phases your baby will go through as they grow. Spot on, honestly. This one is more practical, focusing on things like child-proofing your home, what foods to cook… all the basics.”

Floyd took the offered books from her, feeling weirdly thankful for her chatter. It lasted all the way through her ringing his purchase up for him and finally sending him out of the door with “And give lots of love to your wife! I’ll be praying for their health.” 

Still, when he arrived at home, he plonked down the books on the table and sank down on the couch, blindly staring at them. A safe and loving home? _Safe_? Could he really offer that? 

He was a fucking killer. Stopping wasn’t gonna help here. If he became too elusive, some drug lord might just go looking for him more actively. Nothing else he was good at, anyway. Probably not even parenting.

God. He was going be a _dad_. How did people even qualify for this? Wasn’t here some sort of list of qualifications? He snorted. If there was, he was pretty sure “must not be a hired killer” might be on the very top. 

Sitting here whining about his life wasn’t gonna change anything. He’d just have to pretend to be peaceful at home, and get word out on the streets that he wasn’t to be fucked with, now more than ever. 

Time to pull himself together. He was going to read the shit out of the books, and then he was going to parent the shit out of this baby, and keep her safe. 

 

The birth was so fucking bloody. He’d known something was up when Susanna had asked him to buy a huge pack of pads beforehand. It had been on the list of things the midwife requested for the home birth. Apparently being home was better for her emotional state and shit. He’d made Susanna promise to let him take her to the hospital the minute something felt wrong. Blood and other matter exiting her vagina while she was screaming for the third hour in a row apparently didn’t count as “something feeling wrong”. 

But at the end of it, there was this tiny human blearily looking past him. Babies have always looked the same to him, kinda crumpled and soft, but his daughter was the most beautiful one he’s ever seen. There was the post-birth stuff to take care off, cleaning up and, apparently, stitching up his wife in a few places (ouch. Also, he could see what those pads were for now. They never showed this stuff in movies.) Then their daughter was feeding on her mom’s breast for the first time, no problems with the milk production, thank God (though he’d had the replacement mix prepared for hours now, it was Susanna’s first birth, after all. This kind of stuff was covered in the books, okay, oversized pads weren’t,) and yeah, he’s having a lot of feelings for someone who always thought of himself as a sociopath. 

Then came the time for the first diaper change. Floyd volunteered - he kind of felt like Susanna should probably not move for a few weeks after this ordeal, okay, even if she said she was fine and just needed to regain strength in her pelvic muscles. Anyway, he had something to prove here. 

Mentally, he ran through the instructions in the book. He now regretted not practicing on one of those dolls they offered in toy stores. Then he gently took Zoe from her mom and placed her on the clean diaper he’d laid out for her. No cellphones or toys to distract her yet - the books had said she was too young to take in her environment. Still, he cooed at her, “Daddy’s gonna change your diaper now. Aren’t you a good girl to lie so still?” Talking was important, everyone said. Get her used to your voice, explain everything, strengthen your bond and her learning process. 

As he took off her onesie, he explained, “Now, this is going to be cold, but don’t worry, I’ll be quick.” Quickly, he opened the fasteners on the disposable nappy, folding them down, then folded the diaper down. No poo, not yet, just some wetness. “Gonna lift your legs now, okay, baby?” And as easy as that, the dirty diaper was folded beneath her. 

Floyd gently cleaned her with with baby wipes and put on some rash cream: “Just in case, Zoe, diaper rash really doesn’t sound like fun. We don’t want that, do we? Gonna raise your legs again now that you’re clean, put that dirty diaper away.” Then it was just a matter of folding the top half of the clean diaper she was resting on so it wouldn’t hurt the stump where her umbilical cord was, and fastening it. 

Hah. That hadn’t been so difficult. For a second, he had the absurd urge to call the bookstore lady and do some bragging about besting her husband. 

 

Within months, he was able to differentiate between the smell of farts (terrible) and actual poo (kind of like buttermilk, at least while Susanna was still exclusively breastfeeding). He’d got this. 

 

Two

He hadn’t got this. Fuck. Why was she crying all the time? It wasn’t hunger, Susanna said as much. Girl was refusing to feed half the time she cried. 

That made this his responsibility. He wasn’t gonna let Susanna shoulder all the responsibility during the night if it wasn’t necessary. Poor woman had taken the brunt of it during the first few months. He had enough money in his bank account to keep them both set for the next few decades, never mind unpaid maternity leave and taking fewer “requests”. Perversely, taking less hits meant he could charge more for them. Supply and demand, bitches. 

But still Zoe wouldn’t sleep. The first few months had been fine - she basically stared at nothing for some time every few hours, whining for food or a changed diaper now and then, but mostly, she’d been sleeping beautifully. Now, though? She just _wouldn’t stop_ _crying_. 

It was stressful on a level he’d never experienced before. Floyd didn’t like to think of himself as caring. You didn’t in his line of work. Even with Susanna, it was.. Well, obviously he was upset when she was upset and all, wanted her to feel good, mostly liked being with her. But Zoe was crying and it broke his heart. He’d expected to maybe be annoyed by the noise and lack of sleep, but in reality he just wanted her misery to stop. 

Except he had no idea how to do that. 

Sometimes picking her up and putting her in the sling on his chest did the trick. Tonight though, that apparently wouldn’t do. He’d tried singing, picking up a CD with children’s songs, even reading her stories in his desperation. Tickling, blowing raspberries on her tummy made her giggle during the day, but at night it just made her wail louder. It’s as if she knew she needed to sleep, wanted to desperately, but just couldn’t. 

It had been ten days of this. Everyone was cranky - Floyd, Susanna, Zoe, the neighbours, who had a little kid of their own. He’d managed to persuade Susanna to put in some earplugs and hole up on the other side of the flat, but he could hear the neighbour’s boy pick up on the sounds Zoe was making and starting a little concert of his own. That just made Zoe cry harder. 

Something had to give. 

Floyd sighed, rubbing his eyes and trying to think of a way to break the cycle. Might as well go out. Zoe liked riding in the pushcart they’d gotten for her, and it was a mild, cloudless night. 

Despite his tiredness, he smiled at Zoe as he picked her up. “Daddy’s gonna put some more clothes on you, honey. Can’t go out dressed like that, right?” 

By now, he was almost as quick in dressing her as in assembling his favourite guns. Packing their things (extra diapers, towel for the drool that tended to gather on her chin, milk bottle in case they stopped somewhere they could heat it up…) took but a few minutes, and then they were out on the street. 

Usually, Floyd preferred to move around stealthily, no matter the time - police was just as bad as the criminals around here. There was no question of that this time, as Zoe was still crying, though more quietly than before. Instead, he opted for something between “swagger with enough confidence to scare off criminals” and “innocent tired dad that won’t trouble the cops”, avoiding the more popular areas. 

And, miracle of miracles, Zoe calmed down. It took a while, but finally, _finally_ , she fell quiet, staring at the sky with wide, tired eyes. A few blocks down, Floyd dared to gently pull down her hat to cover her eyes. Minutes later she was asleep. 

Floyd felt himself exhale in relief. Looked like he’d cracked the code on this one. Moving around, huh? He’d heard of that, now that he thought about it. One of the books had mentioned that some babies preferred that to stillness or close bodily contact. (Along with the sentence “Sometimes, babies just cry.” Very helpful, thanks a bunch.) Maybe he’d try putting her into the car next time. They hadn’t gone on any long drives with her before.

Problem was, now he didn’t dare stop. The quiet felt blissful to him, and he imagined his wife and the neighbours felt the same (provided their brat had stopped, too). Floyd was just resigning himself to a long, long walk when he heard a quiet snap. His neck muscles tensed as they kept his head from shooting up to locate the sound. It hadn’t been that close - his hearing was very good, and no self-respecting mugger was going to open his knife within ten feet of his target. 

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a glint, just where the street wound around a small park. Lots of bushes to jump out of, but at least it was usually quiet at night, since everyone knew the cops liked that kebab shop on the other side. Guy must have been an amateur, or possibly young and cocky. Usually Floyd just intimidated the hell out of anyone who noticed him enough to try and start shit, but he sure wasn’t going to risk anything with his baby girl right there. Close range fighting might topple her buggy if the guy got lucky. Wasn’t like he could shoot to intimidate, either - he couldn’t risk having “Floyd Lawton” associated with “shoots well” on the street. Too close to the truth. 

So he moved his right hand, engaged his forearm shooters, and, with the quiet pop of the silencer, shot the would-be mugger between the eyes twice. A flick of the wrist to disengage the gun, and he and Zoe were on their way again. The whole thing hadn’t taken more than twenty seconds. 

It took three more blocks for it to sink in. “Fuck,” Floyd mouthed, silently, so as not wake the baby. He’d just killed someone in front of his girl. Okay, she had been sleeping and her eyes had been covered, but what was he gonna when she was older? Try to get her to look away? Might traumatize the poor kid for life. There were always going to be threats on these streets. Somehow, he didn’t think Susanna would approve of her daughter being a witness to him killing people without much of a thought. 

Even if it might save both of their lives. He wasn’t gonna regret that. 

Fuck. In the future, he would try the car idea. Only cop patrols to worry about that way, and he could get someone to pay them off. Zoe didn’t need to see the kind of person he was, now or ever. 

 

Three

It took three shots to finish off Arron Fredrik Snaijer. One for each of the snipers he’d had placed on the roof of the courtyard, one for the man himself. One mid-level mob leader less in Gotham City, one mil more in Floyd’s bank account. 

Life was pretty good that way. 

When he came home, ostentiously from a stint at a recruitment agency across town, Susanna was sitting on the table and greeting him with a finger on her lips. “She’s napping still.” 

He smiled and bent down to give her a quick kiss on the lips. This return to normalcy always felt weird - as if he was an actor in a play here, instead of when he wore the Deadshot mask. He tried not to think about it too much. 

“Got us some cash from the bank.” 

She grinned, more energetic than she had seemed in days. Good. He’d been worried. “Then you won’t mind if I go spend it? Need to get some groceries, maybe some makeup. Need to start looking presentable again if I go look for a job.” 

“Always look more than presentable to me,” he protested jokingly (it was true, though). “But yeah, go ahead. I’ll keep an eye on Zoe.” 

 

For about half an hour, it was quiet. Then a quiet, “Mom?” came from Zoe’s bedroom. Floyd couldn’t help but smile at her still slurred speech. 

“Mommy’s not here, baby. We’ll play a bit, yeah?” 

He made his way to her room, sure that she was still buried in the pile of pillows and quilts she preferred for nap time. She was quite quick to crawl by now, even trying to stand up now and again, imitating the adults around her. Bright girl, he thought proudly, but not that coordinated yet. 

Or so he thought, because when Floyd entered that bedroom, Zoe was waiting for him standing next to her cuddly pile, swaying slightly but looking determined to stay up there. 

“Wow, look at you, Zoe girl!” He exclaimed, and she grinned. 

“Daddy!” 

He crouched down a few feet away from her. “Can you walk to me, Zoe? Walk to daddy?” 

She looked unsure for a moment, then struck her chin out, determined. “Yes.” 

One step, then one more, then one more - then she tripped over her own center of gravity and fell right into the stretched out arms of her father, who lifted her up and whirled her around, making her shriek in joy. “Well done, Zoe! You’re so great, baby, taking your first steps!” She giggled back at him. 

Through his happiness, he could hear the door to their flat fall close. It was a testament to his distraction that he hadn’t actually heard it open. 

Smiling at Zoe, he asked, “Wanna show Mom your new trick?” 

She thought about it. “Play?” 

“Yes, then we can play.” 

She smiled. “Walk!” It came out as “woak”, but hey, he got the gist. 

“Hey Susanna, wanna see something really cool our daughter just did?” He called out to the living room. 

Susanna stuck her head inside the door. She didn’t look that happy, he thought, but with his excited daughter on his arm he couldn’t focus on that. Zoe was chanting, “Mom! Mom! Wook!” 

Finally, Susanna smiled and came in, kissing Zoe on the head. “What is it, darling?” 

“Daddy! Down!” Zoe ordered, and Floyd crouched down and set her on the ground a few feet away from her mother slowly, steadying her for a moment. 

Then he let go, and Zoe was off on her wobbly legs again. “Zoe!” Susanna exclaimed in the same tone Floyd had done, and off it was to another round of squealing and cuddling. 

 

At least her new trick tired Zoe out pretty quickly. It only took some playing “pretend to be dinos”, her current favourite game, early dinner and two good night stories for her to fall asleep again. She’d be awake at five am again, blithely assuming that if she was awake, everyone else must be as well. But for now, Floyd and Susanna had some time to finish their own dinner, maybe with some dessert and TV after. 

They were doing the dishes when Susanna said without looking at him, “I saw some news on the TV in the shop.” 

He handed her the last plate to dry. “Oh?” 

“Someone killed Snaijer. You know, the aide to the mayor. Probably hired killer, they say. Been a few of those recently.”

Uh-oh. Floyd didn’t like where this was going. “Haven’t heard of that, but it’s probably true. He was mob, right? These people…”

When he turned to her with the cutlery, she was still holding the dripping plate, just looking at him. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this wasn’t good. “Susanna?” 

“Was that you?” 

He tried to play it dumb. “Was what me? The mob? Honey, I know I’m not exactly employed right now, but that’d be a bit drastic…” 

“Don’t bullshit me, Floyd Lawton. You always happen to be ‘on a job’ whenever some bigshot gets killed. Did you kill that man? Is that how you make your money?” Her voice grew louder. “Is that where you get all that money from, Floyd? Killing people?”

For a moment, Floyd wanted to keep denying it. If he had, maybe she’d have dropped it, let him stay for now. Until the next hit, at least. He didn’t think she had any evidence, just a vague suspicion about timing and habits. Maybe he didn’t control himself as well as he thought, exuded an air of danger that she’d managed to ignore until now, but no longer. 

Then he sighed. It didn’t matter. She’d always suspect, and to be fair, she was right to. Time to own up to what he was. “Yes.” 

She stared at him. For a moment, it was eerily reminiscent of the day he’d proposed to her, and he suddenly realized that she’d expected him to say no, expected to be able to live in denial a way longer. He hadn’t even given her that. 

Then Susanna visibly steeled herself. “Get out.” 

That wasn’t exactly a surprise, but fuck, it stung. “Susanna...” 

“I love you, Floyd,” she interrupted him, and for a blinding moment, he felt hope. Then she continued, “but I can’t do this to Zoe. If it was just me… But my kid needs to be safe, Floyd. One day they will find you, and I need her to be far away when they do.” 

“They won’t find me.” The denial was easy and practiced. He believed that. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. 

Susanna just shook her head, looking tired. “They will. Just go, Floyd.” 

Well, what was he gonna do? She was Zoe’s mother. Maybe he’d be able to talk her into letting him back into her life, but he didn’t exactly see a way out of leaving now. Usually he solved problems with his guns. That wasn’t an option here. 

“You want a divorce?” he heard himself ask. 

Susanna hesitated. “That might be best.” 

“Yeah.” In a weird way, this still felt like it happened to someone in a play, someone not him. “I’ll set you up, money-wise, don’t worry.” 

Her head whipped up. “I don’t want your blood money! Imagine if they trace it back…” 

“If ‘they’ do, they’ll find I cheated on you cause I was bored, you sued the hell out of me in revenge and I eventually paid you off.” He saw her consider that, knowing that he needed to override her instinct to push him far away just enough to let him take care of the two of them. Well, Zoe, mostly. Susanna would probably fine without him, had been for years, though it wouldn’t be easy. “I just want her to have health care and a decent education, Susanna.” 

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?” she asked, but relented: “Okay. Okay, you know what, do whatever you want, you probably know this stuff, even if you - and don’t think I’m not angry with you for lying, you have no idea, but just - get out.” 

Floyd tiptoed into Zoe’s bedroom, looking down at her sleeping face for a minute - and then he got out. 

 

Four

It took Susanna over a year to call him. 

He had barely picked up the phone that she started talking, not waiting for his greeting. “Can you look after Zoe for an hour? Cassy,” her sister, “is in hospital with a ruptured spleen, and Bev,” the other sister, “is with her, and I’ve got an appointment I can’t miss. Daycare is closed, our neighbour is with her but she has to leave in half an hour, and she’s asking for you all the time, anyway, and-“ 

“Susanna!” he interrupted, feeling a smile steal onto his lips. “Of course. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?” 

She sighed. “Okay.” A pause. “Thanks.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Nothing to thank me for. Go to your appointment.” 

 

Mrs. Salomon greeted him at the door. “Thank God you’re early, Mr. Lawton. I mixed up times with tutoring, Tommy will be waiting for me…” 

Floyd shook her hand, easily falling back into the role (that was what it felt like now) he’d played as her neighbour. She must have known about the divorce, and he thought she usually would have quizzed him about that, she was the type (as well as a single mom herself), but right now she really seemed in a hurry, so he let her go with a quick “Thanks for staying, Mrs. Salomon.”

“Of course… Zoe is in her room, playing with blocks. Good-bye, Mr. Lawton!” And with that, she was gone. 

Quietly, Floyd entered the flat that used to be his, too. Neither sight nor sound of Zoe. He pushed open the door to her room, thinking she was maybe sleeping, but she was just sitting her, stacking duplo. 

For a moment he took in the sight. His baby girl had grown - her limbs were longer, her hair longer, her eyes no longer quite as big. Zoe looked more like her mom than ever. Probably a good thing, that. She was humming to herself as she played. That was new, too. Maybe she’d remember some of the songs he’d sung to her when she’d been a small toddler? They could sing together now, even he was kinda bad at that. 

He smiled and called out softly, “Zoe?” 

Zoe looked up from her toys and at him. Then she began to cry. 

Startled, he moved towards her, but she yelled, “Not Daddy!” 

“Baby girl…” 

“Not baby! Not Daddy! Not Daddy!” With every repetition, she got louder, until she had reached an ear-piercing pitch. “Not Daddy! No! No! Not Daddy!” 

He tried to touch her, pull her against him like he’d done so many times in the past, but all that did was prompt her to scream “Not touch! Don’t touch, Daddy!” 

He tried to distract her with her toys. No dice. Singing didn’t help, offering a story didn’t. Even a proposed bribe of candy or a trip to the ice cream parlour around the corner didn’t soothe her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was in reality forty minutes, Susanna returned. He heard the front door fall shut, as distracted as the last time he’d been here with Zoe, just for a very different reason. 

“Your mom is here, Zoe,” he tried to say between wails.

He’d expected to run to her mother in the living room right away, but instead she threw herself down on her nap pile, still screaming. “Don’t want Mom!” 

He shrugged, helpless. “I’ll go talk to her, okay? Bye, baby.” He didn’t dare approach her for a kiss. “I love you.” 

 

Susanna greeted him with a wan smile. She looked good. Tired, still, but her sister was in hospital. He hadn’t heard of anything to worry him, so her depression had probably stayed manageable so far. 

“Zoe raging again?” She asked. 

It felt like a trap question. As if he’d either be caught a liar or a bad father. He settled on honesty. “She’s been screaming this entire time. At me. I couldn’t settle her down at all.” 

“Oh yeah, she does that. Been at it for weeks, sometimes for no reason. Probably felt like, uh, punishing you.” 

“That she did,” he murmured. 

“Yeah.” She hesitated for a second, then offered, “She really did ask for you all the time. Maybe you could.. Come around more.” 

He stares at her. “Yeah?” 

It took her a moment, but she nodded. 

 

Still, the sour taste didn’t quite leave his mouth.

For the first time ever, he was glad to be away from Zoe. Ten minutes after he left the apartment, he accepted a high-profile, high-difficulty hit. That was something he was good at at least. 

 

Five

They made it through the next ten years without many problems. Sure, he didn’t see Zoe as much as he’d have liked to, but he was able to visit now, even take her on little excursions as she got older. Every single time he was surprised that his bright and beautiful child was supposed to be his and Susanna’s daughter. Of course, she had her faults, he supposed - she was a little quiet sometimes, too adult in some ways (though he was probably the one to blame for that, Google said divorces did that to kids), not all that good at spelling, her report cards told him - but fuck it, their child was polite and kind and not completely fucked up, so in his eyes, they’d done pretty well as parents. 

When he told Susanna that, she looked at him in that fond way she’d developed over the years - nothing romantic there, more like someone looking at a cat that dragged in a dead mouse as a loving gift, but affectionate, anyway - and laughed. 

It had been the first time Susanna had laughed in weeks, Zoe told him once they were alone, doing some Christmas shopping. “She sleeps a lot, too.”

He frowned down at her. “And going out all night.” With her new boyfriend, he added silently. He didn’t begrudge her that (much), but fucking hell, that dude was a first rate sleazebag. Susanna had never been able to handle too much social interaction in a day, she just wasn’t built that way, and with that dude, she was always out all night. No wonder her body (and mind) shut down all day. The meds could only do so much. 

At least the douchebag had never interested himself in Zoe in anyway. Floyd would have had to kill him, and that would have probably put an end to his visitation rights. 

Zoe stopped in the middle of the alley they were walking through and smiled up at him. “It’s okay, Daddy, I can take care of her. I learned how to make pancakes.” 

With a sigh, he bend down to eye level with her. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work, honey. _She_ ’s supposed to take care of _you._ What do you say you come live with me, huh?” 

“Mom says I can’t go live with you because you kill people.” 

Fucking hell, what was Susanna thinking? You don’t tell kids this kind of shit! They’d kept it from Zoe for so long, what made Susanna think thirteen was an acceptable age to know that Daddy’s a professional killer. No way in hell was he ready for this. 

He wanted to be her hero for a little bit longer. 

“That’s not true, Zoe.” 

She looked at him with her big brown eyes, earnest and kind even now. “It’s okay, Dad. I know you do bad things. Don’t worry, I still love you.” 

And here he thought he couldn’t feel bad on a day with his daughter. What the hell had they, had _he_ done to the kid, to make say something like that? 

“Zoe…”

“Can we get some ice cream now?” 

Floyd forced a laugh. “Sure. Peppermint, right?” 

She nodded. “Of course. It’s the best.”

He straightened up, ready to drop the conversation for now (though there’d be words with Susanna later, seriously, what was she _thinking_ ), and was punched in the face. For a moment he was disoriented, just a split second, enough for the dark shape that had dropped down from a roof behind him to hit his shoulder and kneecap, aiming to disable him. Instinctively, Floyd let the momentum carry him instead, hitting the floor hard, but a few feet away from his attacker and his daughter. 

Immediately, he rolled over into a sitting position and aimed his forearm guns at the Bat. Of course it was him, Gotham’s fucking avenger. Hell, he couldn’t fault the guy for wanting to clean up Gotham, and he wasn’t about to criticize his methods. But no way was he gonna get himself arrested here. He had a daughter to take care of. 

But then Zoe was standing between him and the Bat. 

“Zoe, move.” 

She was looking at him, and - fuck. She was crying. 

He hadn’t seen her cry in six years. 

“Daddy, don’t shoot.” 

“Zoe…”

“Don’t do it, Daddy.” 

The Bat was staring at him over her shoulder. Dimly, it registered that at least he had the decency not to grab Zoe and use her as bait for Floyd. Still, Floyd wanted nothing more than shoot him right in that crack between chest plate and neck guard, rid himself of the biggest threat he’d ever faced, secure his family, his freedom - but Zoe was looking at him, crying silently, and he couldn’t do it. 

With a sigh, he lowered his gun and waved her aside. “It’s okay, hon. I won’t. Step aside, okay? It’ll be okay.” 

Within minutes, he was leaning against a wall of the little alley, hands in cuffs, telling the Bat: “You’d better make sure she gets home safe, you hear me? Fuck with her and you’re dead.” 

Weirdly, the Bat actually nodded. “I promise.” 

Floyd held his eyes for another second, then he turned back to Zoe. “Make sure they wake up your mom, okay? She won’t be happy, but you shouldn’t be alone. Don’t worry about telling her, she won’t be surprised.” 

With a sob, she threw her hands around his neck and held on. He tried to bury his face in her hair as much as he could handcuffed, doing his best to soothe her.

“Shh, I’ll be back, honey, don’t worry about me. You do well, okay? Tell your mom to take care of you, seriously. You don’t need to be so grown up yet. I love you.”

Police sirens were wailing close-by now. 

His whisper turned urgent. “Don’t forget that, okay? I love you.” 

Zoe just cried harder. 

 

And one

The next time he saw Zoe, more than a few things had happened. She’d grown again - girl was gonna be taller than her mom soon. He’d told her they could do anything she wanted in the two hours he was here, provided they stayed in his flat, and she’d picked making waffles and doing her math homework. He was so proud. 

“You gotta figure this length,” he said, pointing at the triangle in her book. “That’s the hypotenuse. So you gotta know this angle.” 

Her face was scrunched up in concentration for a second, then she looked enlightened. “So, if you’re up here, like in a building, and you shoot a man down here on the street, the hypotenuse is how far the bullet actually travels?” 

Floyd promptly almost choked on his coffee. He could have sworn there was a quiet snort from the direction of the door, but he was too busy pulling his girl into a hug and laughing.  “Uh, yeah.” Oh hell, might as well tell her. Not like there was a point in hiding these days. At least she’d liked his stories about beating an ancient goddess and saving the world with his squad. “Only, okay, there’s lots of things that make a difference in the real world. You gotta know the velocity of the wind, the calibre of the bullet, and the man might be moving…” 

He felt light, and happy, and like someone who finally wasn’t acting anymore. Obviously, that couldn’t last long. 

“Time to go,” Flag announced, looking regretful. Floyd hadn’t quite forgotten about his presence and obviously noticed the armed officers making their way inside, but to his credit, Flag had managed to be very quiet and unobtrusive for someone so obnoxiously soldierly. 

With a sigh, Floyd got up, but not without hugging his daughter one more time. “Time to go, sweetheart. Your mom will be home any minute.” 

“When will I see you again?” 

He paused for a moment. Amanda Waller had kept her promise so far. He got to see Zoe once a month now, Flag had told him, and her letters finally reached his cell. He was even able to reply once a week. Still, he wasn’t ready to put his trust into these arrangements. Someone escaped, newspaper got hold of the story, the government decided to get rid of them, and he’d bet they’d all be in the shit again. He wasn’t about to get her hopes up. 

“I don’t know.” Still, he smiled at her. “I love you.” 

“You too!”

Then the handcuffs were back on, and he was led out of his apartment. 

 

On their way back to the swamps, Flag sat down across from his and said: “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the boys might stop by now and then. Just to check everything’s alright.” 

“Those boys including you, Flag?” Dude was a softie, it turned out. 

Flag shrugged. “What can I say, she’s a cute kid. Doesn’t deserve this.” 

It didn’t sting. He wasn’t sure if Flag was referring to the whole prison situation or the ‘her dad is a hired killer’ thing. Frankly, at this point, it had ceased to matter. “Yeah, yeah.” 

Flag was still looking at him, though, with than unnerving straight way he had. “Sorry I had to stay in the apartment, though.” 

It was Floyd’s turn to shrug. “I kind of expected those snipers inside or at least closer, too, instead of on the roof across the street.”

Flag frowned. “Wasn’t gonna let them aim through the windows. We’ve lost most good shots in Mid-City. I’m not trusting these newbies to know their target from an innocent bystander, like, let’s say, your kid. Luckily, Waller agreed with me on that one.”

“And she’s still got the detonator.”

“That, too. My presence was non-negotiable, still.” 

“Why does she even trust you? Now that June’s back in South America, you’d think she’d doubt her leverage. You know, after literally holding her heart in her hands.” Not that he was quite sure what the story was there. Those two had looked real tight right after the whole ‘Ancient Goddess trying to take over the world’ business, but now… In a way, he was content not to know. 

Flag spread his hands. “Pretty sure her reach is long enough, anyway. Besides.” He looked away. “There’s other things.” 

 “Yeah? Dark secrets from the past, soldier boy?” Floyd teased. 

“Nah. You know me, I’m a good boy.” 

Man, they’d come pretty far. Dude was even developing a sense of humour. 

He thought they’d leave it at that, but after a second Flag continued, “She happens to be in charge of some people I’ve grown quite fond of.” He paused, then added, “All assholes.” 

Floyd smiled. He couldn’t help it. 

Maybe he _would_ ask the guards about the story on Flag and June. Sheer curiosity, of course. 

Right. 

 

A few weeks after Harley’s escape - and boy, it made him mad to think of her back with that douchebag of a clown - one of Zoe’s letter ran the following paragraph: 

_There was a lady visiting yesterday when Mom was still sleeping. She said to call her “Aunt Harley”, but she doesn’t look like a relative. She’s real pretty though. Brought me candy. I didn’t eat it all at once, don’t worry. She said to send you “lots of love and kisses”, and also say that someone called Batty-cakes is patrolling our street, not to worry. Did she mean Batman, Daddy? I know he took you away, so I don’t like him. But that would be kind of cool. Also - do you think I could start gymnastics? Auntie Harley says it comes in real useful._

Floyd could feel the guards stare at him through his little window, but he just couldn’t stop laughing. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first kid fic and it includes murder, divorce and prison. Not quite how I imagined reaching that milestone. (Whatever. It was fun.)


End file.
